It is a struggle: this cannot be denied. Struggling is not enjoyable.You can't call enjoyable an activity during which you're in a state of terror and tension, eyes, ears and nose pricked up like a deer being hunted, knowing that at any moment it could be curtains. Maybe that's why I've been so unfaithful to this calling, this joy that is so painful. Because I'm pleasure-loving and I give up on things that require sustained effort and attention. Allright that's not true. I did and I do undertake a lot of work in my life which demands long hard slog and I manage to complete it. But reluctantly, teeth gritted. My teeth are full of grit from all the gritting I've subjected them to. In my heart of hearts, I want everything to be easy. Wonderful art to flow non-stop from my fingers like honey from a spoon; life, love, liberty, relationships and happiness and knowledge and wisdom - all of it to be simple, straightforward, quickly achieved, effortless, with clear instructions in large type on a single sheet of paper: if you do A it gives you B which leads to C and that's it. All done and all perfect.
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oh yeah, life, love, that thou art
- frank charlton
out of the gutter
twenty years i’ve watched
same dumb man bent over curb
collecting rubbish
leaves beige, buff and brown
red, russet and yellow gold
flash over the lake
looking at photos
on mobile strolling the past
guy bumps into things
flotilla of geese
cut arrows in the water
pointing to The Wash
mum taking photos
dad teasing daughter for fun
she is soon crying
now leaves are dying
they are seen dancing brightest
colourful language
extolling virtues
of mobility scooter
stooped man glides away
eyeballed universe
in a moment far too brief
though quite long enough
frank charlton 27th October, ‘09
fcrazycloud@talktalk.net
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